Frozen: Strange Magic, Stranger Love
by LadyGrievous
Summary: Elsa's magic has attracted the attention of the elves, who seek to conquer Arendelle and depose her as queen. Her only hope is the Dragon Priests of Skyrim, who are the only ones who have ever defeated the Dominion. Will she find more than just salvation in the arms of Morokei? MorokeiXElsa romance. Some mature content later on.
1. Prologue

The people saw their future, in the dry winds that blew down from the eastern mountains, the way the animals seemed so jittery, the strange charge that permeated the air. They saw their fate and they faced it courageously. They farmed and reaped the products of their labors, made weapons, traded for what they didn't have, helped their neighbors, prepared their homes, and barricaded their towns—fearlessly. No one fled, no one left—no one even seemed to really care. No one spoke of surrender or that fate that was to be theirs when they refused. Life went on, and though the people danced and the people played, their queen could not fear for them enough.

All her days seemed consumed with fear. It was much like living with her concealed powers, Elsa reflected, only now she did not fear herself and what she might do, but she feared for her people, and what she would not be able to do. Her job was to protect them, but what on earth could she do to defend against an entire, massive army? An army equipped with magic from the lowliest foot soldiers to the highest-ranking commander. To surrender was to watch her people enslaved, her sister torn from her side, her country razed, and quite possibly her own life extinguished. To the citizens of Arendelle and its outlying territories, war meant nothing, but to Elsa the horizon was full of dark thunderheads of terror that she could not escape.

The men in her council told stories of the Dominion when they thought she couldn't hear. They meant no disrespect to her, but she was still young, and the weight of the impending threat weighed on her so heavily they couldn't bear to burden her further. But they couldn't help but whisper. Of how elves and humans had hated each other for centuries. How the elves had conquered their native lands and enslaved most of the other native races, how they had been furious at humans once again for deigning to worship a man-made god. How they detested anyone who used magic who was not an elf. How all of them had powers well beyond the scope of imagination, and Elsa was the only one in Arendelle or any of the nearby countries who could even wield magic. Of how many of their neighbors had already fallen before the Dominion, or sided with them to save themselves. And in Elsa's mind, she was to blame. She had drawn their attention to her country with her accidental eternal winter, and to the elves she was not only a human wielding magic—an affront and an abomination—but she was a woman. If Arendelle fell, it would all be her fault, and reasoning that the elves would have come sooner or later helped little.

Time and time again she tried to imagine a way to save Arendelle. Both the King of Weselton and the eldest of Hans' brothers, the King of the Southern Isles, had offered to stand with Arendelle against the Dominion, at the price of Anna's hand in marriage and Elsa's abdication. If Elsa had to step down to save Arendelle, so be it, but she would not sacrifice her little sister or rip her away from her happiness. The King of Weselton was older than the Duke, and had married and buried 3 wives. And there was no way in hell she was letting Anna near anyone even remotely related to Hans.

But wars had been won by the underdogs before, she tried to tell herself. The troll's prophecy about the eternal winter had come to pass thanks to Elsa herself—and Anna had saved them all. An entire nation had stood up to the Dominion and survived to tell the tale. That more than anything was what prompted Elsa to voice this idea to her council.

"We must find ourselves a hero."

It sounded absurd, and she knew it, even before they all looked at her with confusion and uncertainty. It had not even been a year since she had unintentionally frozen her entire people, and Elsa still spent her days stricken with self-consciousness. The gloves on her hands were a safety net now, although in retrospect, that's really all they'd ever been, a mental and not physical barrier to her powers. Anna didn't think she needed them. Elsa disagreed. She couldn't admit, even to her own sister, that the gloves were no longer a symbol of her repression. Feeling the soft silk over her fingers was a reassurance, even though it had so long been a burden and curse, that she was still in charge. She did intend to wean herself off them, yes, but when she spent so much time distressed by the impending threat of war, the gloves provided an extra check on her magic. Strange that something she had once felt as a cage could be her comfort now.

Right now, Elsa was fighting to keep her hands still, as they threatened to twist and knot as they always did when she was agitated. "We must find ourselves a hero," she repeated, "Someone who can help us turn this tide." Ever used to the cold, her velvet royal gown was uncomfortably warm and she was beginning to feel lightheaded. Trying to tell herself to keep it together was too much like her old unhelpful mantra and thinking of that just made everything worse.

"A hero, Your Highness?" Her majordomo questioned, somewhat confused.

"Yes," Elsa nodded, unwilling to back down now. "The Dominion isn't all-powerful. I know what you think of them and I also know you think I can't hear you, but you've said it yourselves; there's a country out there that's been invaded by them, pushed them out, and kept them out. If they can do that, why can't we? Just one battle won might be all we need. This country, this "Keizaal" as they call it—perhaps if the Dominion sees we are with them, that I am capable of defending my country and my people, well,it may at the very least buy us time."

"Your Majesty," Commander Vulius interrupted, and everyone turned there attention to him. He was Captain of the Guards and Commander of the royal military and local militia, and he had been so since her father. He had always been most supportive of her. "Keizaal is a land of magic. There were hundreds of sorcerers there to fight the Dominion. Here, there's only you. Our Queen. If we lose you, we fall."

"But we'll fall anyway if I don't DO something!" Elsa cried desperately, and light snow began to drift around her. Her advisers glanced at the flakes nervously.

"My Queen," Councilor Jorgen interrupted, raising his shaking hand. Jorgen was a very, very old man, rickety, frail—he'd been on the royal council since Elsa's grandfather had been King, and he had cared for Elsa and Anna and run the country as regent in the wake of their parents' death. His hands shook and so did most of his body, and his eyes glistened nervously—not from fear of Elsa, but from something else. All eyes turned to him.

"You young folk don't...know...what Keizaal is." Jorgen said in his stuttery voice. "Back in my day, it had a very different name." He frowned. "It is...a dark land. Of much...dark magic. And the reason...the name changed...is the reason it was able to stand up to the Dominion...and survive."

A few of the council members looked at each other, frowning, and Elsa's heart fluttered. What was it that Jorgen was trying to say?

"The reason Keizaal kept out the Dominion," Jorgen continued, "Is because...they had a very...powerful...ally. Or rather, their leaders. Many, many years ago, the Dominion invaded Keizaal. And then...dragons returned."

Elsa's breath caught. But dragons were just a myth—right?

"Dragons? Come off it," another councilor scoffed.

Jorgen continued as if he hadn't heard the man. "Dragons, and with them a race...of men...who were not human. There are said...there are supposed to be eight, I think. Before them...back when humans still ruled it...Keizaal used to be called Skyrim."

Elsa's blood ran cold.

_ Skyrim_. The name was an old one and most people didn't like to talk about it. The country kept to itself for the most part, and rumors were constantly abounding about it that involved necromancy, dark magic—even undead kings.

"And they're ruled by eight powerful men. They call themselves Dragon Priests. And their leader's name is Morokei."


	2. Chapter 1: Omens

There was one conversation that Elsa had always remembered from her parents arguing, something that had stuck in her mind forever. They had realized she was there and listening too late, and no matter how they had apologized and reassured her they would never do what they had said, she had never been able to look at them the same way.

_"This is the third time this month she's tried to hurt herself."_

_"She was upset. She was just reacting to hurting Anna."_

_"Exactly! Idun, both our daughters could wind up dead tomorrow morning! Elsa has spent the past two years hiding from Anna, terrified of herself, terrified of us, terrified of her sister, and I never wanted __that__ for her! But Anna is Anna, there's no keeping her away. We've __tried__. We've had to take her to the trolls and wipe her memory of Elsa's magic again __seven__ times and each time Elsa gets more distraught. She attempted to freeze herself solid yesterday. How is this good for __either__ of them?! Elsa hates herself. She can't stand being around other people because she lives in fear of herself all the time. __I__ don't want that, __you__ don't want that, but there's nothing __we__ can do, Idun, we have no idea how to help her!" Elsa had rarely heard her father sound so upset, so emotional, but hearing his voice crack now made this all the more real and made her feel all the more horrible for being the cause of this pain._

_"There are...rumors. Of men with magic like hers, in a faraway land. We could summon one of them." Idun's voice was faint and timid. "I've heard whispers of a man, a sorcerer, who might be powerful enough to control Elsa's powers."_

_The suggestion left nothing but silence in its wake for far too long. Elsa couldn't see her father's face, but she could tell from the silence he didn't like this idea. _

_"Where does this sorcerer live?" He asked finally._

_"He lives in a land called...Skyrim...and his name...is Morokei."_

_The silence that followed this was terrifying._

_"A Dragon Priest?" he said at last. "You want to summon a __Dragon Priest__?!" It was the first time Elsa had ever truly heard her father yell at her mother, and she cringed just as Queen Idun did. _

_The king backed away. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. But...I just..."_

_"They're exceptionally powerful," Idun whispered. "Especially Morokei."_

_"No, Idun!"_

_"They say he can do anything. That...that he uses ice and snow as a weapon, just like Elsa. He could take away her powers."_

_"You want to let that monster near our little girl?! No. I don't care what happens, we are never doing that to her. Nor are we ever bringing this up again."_

_"Well, I don't particularly want it either, Markus, but I don't want to lose my child either! Anna could have died! Elsa is getting more and more distraught—who knows what she'll do! Sometimes I start to feel like we have no choice!"_

_It was then that they noticed Elsa standing there, wide-eyed and fearful. It was then that they became parents again, and not two scared people staring at each other across a great divide...a divide she had caused. _

_They promised her it would never happen. They would never let any Dragon Priest or sorcerer near her. _

_But the damage was done._

And the memory remained.

Elsa's heart stammered and she took a step back, the snow coming down in earnest now. "Skyrim? _Morokei_? You mean...he's real?"

"Real?" Kai frowned at her. The majordomo looked back at Jorgen, then back at Elsa. "What do you mean, 'he's real'?"

Elsa steeled herself, even though her hands were clenching the chair behind her so tightly her knuckles were numb.

"My parents mentioned him." Elsa said. "I just remembered it. They were discussing—this." She gestured to the snow and it went away. "I was young, so I believed I was the only one with magic. I didn't believe it when they mentioned a sorcerer who could take away my powers."

"Your parents considered taking your powers?" Kai demanded, frowning at her. While some people in Arendelle were not fond of Elsa or her magic, her council at the very least was loyal to her, especially Kai and Vulius, and Jorgen.

"No," Elsa defended them. "They just mentioned Morokei."

"I don't like that idea." Vulius said. "A sorcerer that powerful seems dangerous. And what's this about dragons?"

"Dragon Priests. Sounds like a cult." Councilor Andersen said.

"It is," Jorgen replied. "They are men with...extreme...powers...who worship the Dragons. There are not...many dragons left. These ancient...men...have been in Skyrim since time began, and rose from the dead a thousand years ago." At this, there were exclamations of shock and horror among the other men. Elsa merely sat there, face pale as porcelain. "They are...immortal...unkillable...and Morokei...is...strongest. He sent...he sent us this...a while ago." Jorgen fished a piece of parchment out of his sleeve and handed it to Elsa. "It came to me, weeks ago, and before I could give it to you...it disappeared. I have...been searching for it...and it appeared again by my bedside table this morning. For you, my Queen."

With trembling fingers Elsa took the letter, willing herself with everything she had not to freeze it through her gloves. It was starting to feel like her coronation all over again.

The parchment was strange and yellowed with age, and seemed to be made more out of stiff cloth than paper or animal skin. It had an odd scale-like imprint on it too, and the seal was made of black wax, and depicted a rearing dragon head with strange runes inscribed in a circle around it. Before she could even go to break the seal, the wax went up in flames, and vanished, making her drop the letter in shock.

"Open it," Jorgen said in his frail voice.

Elsa did.

_Pruzah vulon, Queen Elsa_, read an elegant script that seemed surprisingly flowery. _I congratulate you on your ascension to the throne, and apologize that this commendation comes so very late. I also offer my condolences for the death of your parents, whom I had the pleasure of knowing through a very brief correspondence._

Her heart seized. So they _had_ contacted him.

_I know Arendelle to be facing the threat of annihilation by the Aldmeri Dominion, as Keizaal was many years ago,_ the letter continued. _It is in this spirit of kinship that I offer an alliance with Skyrim to you. I ask for nothing in return. Skyrim is large but has few people, and Arendelle is small but has many. I believe together we could give the Dominion reason to turn back from Arendelle, if you would be willing to accept this offer. _

_I look forward to your response, whatever it may be._

_With highest regards,_

_Morokei, Dragon Priest of Bromjunaar_

* * *

><p>Elsa tried to ignore how the pen was shaking in her hand, but after failing to write coherently three times, she put pen and paper down and drew in a deep breath.<p>

"Relax," she murmured, placing a hand over her heart both to encourage the beat to steady, and to calm the trembling of her fingers. "Don't be afraid. Relax. Don't be afraid."

After several moments of just standing there, repeating the words over and over until they just became individual blobs of sound with no meaning, she sat back down and took a deep breath. When she exhaled, it started to snow and frost covered the ground at her feet, but she let it. Allowing her emotions to manifest was sometimes a good thing, she had come to realize. It took them when they were crowding her in and put them outside of her, and like now, seeing her snow made her feel a little calmer.

_Lord Morokei_, she penned, mulling the words over in her head. She spelled his name wrong the first time and, muttering, wiped it clear with frost and began again. _Thank you for..._ For what? For condolences? Yes, that was as good as any. _Your condolences, and your letter. I did not know you knew my parents; you will have to tell me about your experiences with them when you come to Arendelle—_no, too informal. _In light of recent events, I do believe we ought to—_again, no. It just sounded awkward. Sighing, Elsa wiped most of what she'd written off the page with the frost and started over again. _Lord Morokei, thank you for your condolences, and your letter. In light of recent events, I would like to invite you to Arendelle, in the interest of discussing an alliance. I look forward to your response. _

_Queen Elsa of Arendelle_

It was only the third time she had signed her name as the Queen, and it gave her a feeling of mild unease now. She wished the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders, that her parents were still here, but she had a duty to her people and she would do it. Even if that meant making a deal with the devil.

After several tries and several frustrated snow blasts, she successfully fashioned a small ice dragon and fastened the letter to its belly. It chirped and climbed onto her shoulder, and she smiled. She had already grown attached to it. Carrying it to the window, she patted its head and pushed open the heavy glass panes. "Carry this letter to Skyrim. Lord—erm, Dragon Priest Morokei, of Bromjunaar." She instructed, doing her best with the strange names. The dragon chirped again, then flew out the open window into the night.

"Come back soon!" She called, hoping she'd see her little ice dragon again. It was hard not to get attached to the things she created.

When she turned around there was a large letter on her desk.

Heart hammering, she approached cautiously, frost at her fingertips and ready to shoot. It was lying next to her aqua gloves, the yellowish, large parchment with the black seal, and when it didn't attack her upon her approach, she very carefully picked it up and opened it.

_Queen Elsa;_

_I am quite pleased you wish to discuss an alliance. If it suits you, I will arrive in Arendelle tomorrow. You need not write a reply. _

_Regards,_

_Lord Morokei_

Elsa was left with her heart going a thousand miles an hour, terrified. How had he sent her a response? She had literally just sent her messenger to him! Was he watching her? For a moment, she was honestly convinced she was going to faint and sat down very quickly, for once not trying to control her emotions. Frost swept out over the floor in graceful fractals, and ice crept up the already-frosted chair legs and arms and created spikes around her feet. Snow began to swirl aimlessly in various directions as she stared at the letter. _Tomorrow? Need not write a reply?_ What the hell was she dealing with?

After a long time—too long—the snow went away, and the frost retreated from where it had gone crazy over the carpet, leaving a faint silver shimmer in the weave of the rug and unfreezing her desk chair. Trying not to slump over her desk in defeat and fear, Elsa looked up at the high rafters of the ceiling. "Tomorrow?" She whispered. "How is that even possible? How did he do...this?"

Embarrassed for no real reason at all, she nodded, quickly. "Yes," she said aloud, trying to direct her thoughts and her voice to this terrifying Dragon Priest. "Tomorrow...is suitable."

It was kind of stupid, talking to the air. Sighing, she released her hair from its bun and combed her fingers through the braid to unravel it. She removed the frost and the ice, folded up her paper and put the pen and inkwell neatly away, pushed her chair in, and left the room, hands once again knotting at her stomach as she walked.

Her feet did not carry her to her own room, however, but to Anna's. She hadn't slept in what felt like far too long, and even though her body and mind were exhausted, something about lying in that great empty room alone was unpleasant at the least and frightening at the worst. Her heart was already going far too fast.

She knocked on the door, trying dearly not to think of all the times Anna had knocked on hers. "Anna?" _It would serve me right if you didn't open it._

But Anna did. Anna always did. And she always knew when Elsa was upset—like now. "Elsa?" She asked, frowning at the expression on her sister's face. "What's wrong?"

"Can I...can we hang out? Like we used to?" Elsa started nervously knitting her fingers, faster and faster, but then Anna reached out and took her hands.

"Always," Anna said gently.

Elsa walked into Anna's room and her sister closed the door behind them, then flounced past the young queen to sit on the bed, patting the mattress next to her. Elsa came and sat, and Anna immediately scooted back to cross her legs and begin braiding Elsa's hair.

Anna's room hadn't changed since the time they had shared it together; the walls were still pink with the white baseboard moulding and deco trim, carefully-done rosemaling in rosy gray, olive green and dark maroon decorating each stripe around the room. The curtains had recently had to be removed, as Anna had accidentally ripped them, and the bar they hung from, off the windows, and the dark blue of the night sky shimmered into the room, the Northern Lights throwing greens and blues and violets around to mingle with the candlelight. Elsa sighed.

"Everything okay?" Anna asked, folding strand over strand and combing Elsa's bangs back into the braid to keep them out of her face. "You don't look so good. I mean, not that you look bad. But you don't exactly look happy. Are you happy?"

"I don't know, Anna..." Elsa shook her head, prompting Anna to clear her throat in an indication of disapproval, and re-center the braid. "I'm just...afraid. All the time, I'm afraid."

Anna paused in her braiding to peer over Elsa's shoulder, concern in her aqua eyes. "Of your powers? I thought you...you know, got used to them. 'Love will thaw' and all that." She looked down at frowned at the gloves. "I thought you didn't need _those_ anymore."

"I don't. Not really." Elsa pulled the soft gloves off and looked down at the pale sage-green fabric, running her thumb over the embroidered crocus design by the trim. Her eyes flickered. "Remember how Momma had those white gloves that belonged to grandma? How I always, always wanted to wear them, but she was afraid that between the two of us, they'd get ruined? After I...after I hit you with my powers, and I locked myself away...Daddy gave them to me." She chuckled at the memory, despite the pang of pain in her chest. "I guess he and Momma figured I wasn't going to destroy them now. They were...a safety net. I didn't want to look at the hands that had nearly killed you."

A tear slid down her soft, pale cheek and landed on the fabric, and she hurriedly wiped it away before it could soak in to the weave and stain the soft cotton-silk mix. She blinked hurriedly, to avoid letting Anna see her cry.

"That wasn't fair to you," Anna muttered, pausing once again to reach around her sister's side and hold her hand, squeezing just a little too tightly—as Anna of course was wont to do. "They should have taught you to love your powers, not hate them."

"Yes, I know. But they did their best." Elsa let Anna hold her hand for a few seconds more, the gently pulled her fingers away and folded the gloves into her lap. "They became my cage, though, you're right. That's why I freaked out when you brought them back up to me on the mountain. But now...I kind of feel like they're reassuring me. They help me feel...in control."

Anna patted Elsa's head as she continued the fishtail braid. "I'm of the belief that you don't need them. But if they make you feel safer or whatever, then obviously I'm not going to complain until you take them off. But really, Elsa, you can't blame yourself for what happened when we were kids. You told me to stop running, and I didn't. Hey. Look at me. Quit crying. I don't _blame_ you."

"I know, I know." Elsa waved her off. "I just...I'm always afraid nowadays. Of myself. Of my powers. Of...of being queen. I tried to hold out for so _long_...I didn't want to be queen. I definitely wasn't ready at only 21. That's why I insisted they put off the big ceremony, until I basically just couldn't insist any longer." She rubbed her temples. "God, Mom and Dad made this look so much easier than it actually is."

"You're doing a great job as queen," Anna reassured her, finishing the braid and pulling a ribbon from the messy tangle on her bedside table to secure it. She tossed it over Elsa's shoulder and started massaging her sister's shoulders. When the sisters were young, Elsa had always had to do Anna's hair, as she was too young to do it herself and too impatient to learn. When they had been separated, and Elsa had then kept that separation going, Anna had had to learn to braid her own hair, and she had become quite talented at it—mainly because it was the only way to keep that unruly mane out of her face. Like their grandmother Sabine, Anna had thick, wavy hair that got progressively curlier as it went down her head, and it was constantly standing up in crazy directions if she left it upbraided. One of Elsa's favorite things to do was have Anna braid her hair—it was a pleasant role-reversal of their childhood, and one that allowed Anna to do something with her hands and thus focus on the conversation without having to move around constantly.

"Am I?" Elsa asked the ceiling as Anna massaged the tense muscles in her shoulders.

"Heck yeah! Just imagine what an awful mess _I'd_ be making if _I_ were queen."

Elsa sighed again and looked back at her hands resting in her lap. "The Dominion sent us another offer."

"Another? Geez, can't they take a hint? What did they want this time?"

"They wanted our surrender. Again. This time it came with some ludicrous offer of a marriage between Arendelle and the kingdom of Weselton in exchange for the elves NOT obliterating our entire country," Elsa muttered.

"Marriage? Eeuw. I would never let you marry the slimy king of that slimy country." Anna said.

Elsa did not tell her the enemy countries were demanding Anna's hand and Elsa's head. "Well, we got another offer."

"Let me guess." There was a faint prick of fury in Anna's voice, which was already full of thinly veiled hatred. "_The Southern Isles._ Those bastards have the _nerve_ to make offers to us after what Hans—"

"Actually," Elsa interrupted, laying a hand on Anna's to calm her, "Not the Southern Isles."

"No? Then who?" Anna blinked and shuffled around so she was facing her sister, eyes wide and curious in the purple darkness of the room. The Northern Lights streaked indigos and violets and a dash of pale rose across her freckled face and left the rest in darkness, drawing out her features and making her sea-blue eyes pools of murky ink instead. Elsa was always so very proud of what a pretty young woman her awkward, gangly sister had managed to become—though Anna was still perfectly awkward and gangly even now.

Elsa inhaled deeply, breathed out, and set her jaw. "Skyrim."

Anna stiffened, and her eyes darkened, brow bunching in concern and a little fear. "Whoa. Skyrim? No one's heard anything from _them_ in...well, in ages. They're...don't they keep to themselves? Hang on, isn't most of their land uninhabited?"

Elsa nodded. "They do usually keep to themselves. But the Dominion was really interested in them a few years ago. There was apparently a group of humans who took over and unified that whole area, and then the Dominion barged in. But Skyrim overthrew them, forced the Dominion out, and kept them out." There was excitement in her voice, barely concealed by her even, ever-steady tone, but there was also a thin layer of nervousness. Of fear. "They offered to help us."

"That's...amazing." The younger princess did not seem as thrilled as Elsa had hoped she would be. Anna's excitement was to be her validation for agreeing to negotiate with Skyrim. This was more like trepidation.

She merely nodded. "It is. I...have already contacted them, actually. One of their leaders is arriving tomorrow to discuss an alliance." The words sounded very strange on her tongue.

"Tomorrow? That's fast. Who are their leaders?" Anna leaned back on her hands just a little, to better see her sister's face. Elsa's back was to the window and the better part of her features were masked in blue shadow, the faintest glimmer of pale violet highlighting her cheekbone and eyelid and the delicate sweep of her hair. "I'm not caught up on my Skyrim lore. I just know what I've heard from the councilors and such."

At this query, Elsa started to wring her hands again. "Well...there are supposedly eight, but the one coming tomorrow is supposed to be one of the most powerful...his name is Morokei."

At this, Anna did balk. "Wait. Morokei? The one you said that...Mom and Dad considered taking you to? To get rid of your powers?"

"They didn't want to _get rid_ of my powers," Elsa chided, not sure who exactly she was chiding and who she was defending. "Just..."

"Control them. Control you." Anna's gaze was hard and Elsa once again found herself surprised at the resentment Anna seemed to harbor towards their parents, when it was Elsa who had frozen her out and ignored her for almost 20 years. Was all of it just on Elsa's behalf? Or did Anna in part blame them for her isolation and lonely life?

She just shrugged. "Well, neither one seemed very fond of the idea—"

"But they considered it."

"Anna, they were afraid," Elsa whispered.

"They shouldn't have been afraid of their own daughter!" Anna snapped. "They treated you like a _monster_. No wonder you stayed away from me."

"_Anna_," Elsa said sharply.

The younger sighed. "Right. Sorry. I know they...tried." She drew her knees to her chest and leaned her chin on them, rocking back and forth for a moment with her dark eyes brooding and lost to this world, before looking back to Elsa. "So you're actually going to talk to Morokei? Even after...that?"

"Yes, I have to."

"No, you don't." Anna uncurled to grasp her shoulders. "Look, Elsa, nothing says you have to _do_ anything. If you—"

"Anna," Elsa raised her hands to gently brush Anna's away. "I _do_ have to. It's my duty, as queen, to my people. If Morokei can...save us? Then yes, we must make an alliance with him. With Skyrim."

"Morokei is a him? Hmm," Anna said, and Elsa laughed, knowing that had been Anna's exact intention and grateful for it.

"What would I do without you," she teased.

"Probably become a zombie incapable of performing basic human functions," Anna teased back, then rolled off the bed and flounced over to her wardrobe to pull out her nightgown. "Do you...want to just sleep here? Like when we were little?"

Elsa beamed and let Anna toss her another nightgown. "Yes, I would love that. Thank you, Anna."

The two sisters curled up next to each other under the covers, Elsa lying on her side with her legs tucked neatly under her and Anna sprawled in three different directions, and the last thought Elsa registered before she drifted away into sleep was how pretty the sky was tonight.


	3. Chapter 2: Meetings

The next morning found Elsa nervously putting on her royal gown. Though she technically had servants to do this for her, Anna helped her lace up the ice corset she had fashioned—she was already so nervous, she didn't need to pass out from overheating—and slide the velvet and cotton dress over her head. The fabric of the bodice was heavy, and the skirt was only marginally lighter, and she mentally made a note to have her tailor remake the dress in something stretchier and certainly more breathable. Anna nearly fell over when she tried to bring the long felt cape to her sister and tripped on the hem, and Elsa paused for a moment of indecision before taking her green gloves and pulling them on, rolling her eyes at Anna's tongue-cluck of disapproval. "Anna, I told you."

"I know. I just think that you'd be perfectly fine without them. You're strong enough not to need them," she said, squeezing her sister's hand before going back to putting up Elsa's hair in the french twist the young queen was fond of. "Hey. I wonder what this 'Morokei' looks like."

"Please don't scare him away within the first few minutes," Elsa managed.

"Pish posh, I would never." Anna dropped the bobby pins and cursed. Elsa fashioned two new ones from ice for her. "Is there supposed to be a ribbon woven into your bun?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Okay, because this looks really nice the way it is and I don't feel like undoing it to stuff a ribbon in. Here." She handed Elsa her crown and smiled blithely when her sister put it on.

"How do I look?" Elsa asked.

"Like a queen, obviously. And beautiful. Very much beautiful." Anna grinned. "I have to go get ready myself. And help Kristoff figure out what he's going to wear. He'd never had to dress formally before. What about Olaf?"

Elsa chuckled. "Olaf is fine the way he is. I think he's outside playing with Sven anyway."

"Okay, good. One less person to worry about." Anna scampered out of the room, her light green bloomers from the previous day still on under her nightgown. "Okay. Should I meet you in the throne room?"

"Yes," Elsa called down the hall, gathering her cape in one arm so she didn't have to drag it the entire way. She heard Anna trip again as she started to make her way down the stairs and couldn't help a small chuckle.

Oh, but she was nervous. She was about to meet one of the sorcerer-kings of Skyrim, a land most people didn't like to talk about in and of itself, nevermind the men who ruled it. Was this really the right decision, to make an alliance with them?

_You're not jumping into anything just yet, Elsa_, she reminded herself as she descended the stairs and headed to the throne room, nodding to the servants who stopped to bow to her as she passed. That had become second nature; perhaps she was finally starting to become a real queen. _You're just discussing the possibilities of an alliance. No more. If the terms aren't to your liking, you aren't __obligated__ in any way to agree to a binding contract._ The young queen smiled and thanked the two male servants who pulled open the doors for her, and when she reached her throne, most of her council had already gathered around her. Jorgen was not present.

"Is Jorgen all right?" She asked.

Kai shook his head with a sigh. "I'm afraid not, Queen Elsa. He was stricken with pains last night. He's in bend, being tended to by his wife and servants now."

Elsa's heart clenched. "Oh no. Poor Jorgen. Has the court physician gone to see him?"

"Yes, my Queen. And unfortunately it doesn't look good. His heart has been acting up again."

Elsa tried not to groan. She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it if Jorgen died. He had for so long been one of the few constant figures in her life. Like Kai and Vulius, he had always been confident in her and had never seemed to balk at her powers, leading her to believe he was one of the few her father had continued to confide in about her abilities, even after the king and queen had reduced the staff and the trolls had taken all memory of her magic away from the town and citizens. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Deep inside she was full of unease. Did Jorgen's sudden ailment have anything to do with the fact that Morokei's letter had shown itself to him first? She'd heard rumors from the servants once that the Dragon Priests could suck youth and life away without even touching you, and though she had scoffed at the notion then, it suddenly seemed to have credence.

_Don't be ridiculous_, she hissed to herself, sitting up a bit straighter on her throne. _He's old. This has been a long time in coming._

Anna came running into the room at that moment, then spun around and hopped back to where she'd lost her shoe, awkwardly hopping back towards the throne as she put it back on her foot. Kai chuckled, and some of the councilors sighed, but Elsa had rarely been more glad to see her silly little sister. Anna was wearing her royal gown, and she looked just as pretty as she had the night of Elsa's coronation.

Kristoff came in next, holding Olaf's little twig hand as the snowman waddled alongside him, humming blithely to himself. Elsa's smile broadened as they took their places alongside her throne, and her councilors stepped off the dais as well.

"So, when exactly is Morokei coming?" Anna asked.

"I...don't actually know," Elsa admitted. "He only said...'tomorrow'."

"I still don't think this is a good idea, trusting someone from _Skyrim_," one of her councilors said, shuddering. "There are rumors about that land and _none_ of them are good."

"The Queen has made her decision," Vulius said somewhat testily.

"It's all right," Elsa interrupted before they could start arguing. She was beginning to worry. She didn't even know how he was arriving, much less when. "I'm sure Skyrim's lords would understand if we chose not enter an agreement with them."

"I don't think we have much of a choice," another councilor muttered. Anna and Elsa both frowned at this, and both looked so much like their mother than Kai and Vulius had to chuckle.

"When Morokei comes—" Elsa began.

"ELSA!" Anna exclaimed.

In the center of the hall, a giant ball of purple fire had suddenly appeared without any warning whatsoever. The flames spun in rings that twisted and warped the air around a strange black center that glowed blue with an odd sucking noise, expanded, and then switched direction to form a giant explosion of dark violet fire with no restraint or purpose whatsoever, and a dark blue shockwave shot out from the burst of color. Elsa was on her feet, Kai with a hand on her shoulder, ready to run with her, Vulius's hand on his sword as he stood in front of his queen.

The fire disappeared as suddenly as it had come, leaving no trace of its presence on the floor, and the warped air sucked in on itself and vanished with a pop.

Standing in the center of the space the fireball had formerly occupied was a man.

He was taller than any man she had ever seen and thin as a skeleton, but every inch of his slim, powerful body was covered in fine, trim muscle. He wore long robes of peacock blue and a deep, iridescent green that were loose and billowing, but seemed to cling to his powerfully-built figure in all the right places to accentuate his athletic, lanky form. Dark golden armor covered his arms like dragon scales and ran down his chest all the way to his knees in a line, like interlocking bones or some kind of plates. Dragon heads were carved from the armor and rested upon his shoulders, and the scale armor extended all the way to his hands. The blue fabric, with had the look of satin or silk, ran down his chest like a tunic beneath the armor and down the skirt of the robes in both front and back, and draped from his upper arms to the black sash around his waist, leaving long, floor-length, straight green sleeves underneath that opened at the elbow to free the rest of his arms, which were clothed in tight black material that extended more than halfway down his hand and ended right at the first knuckle of his middle finger. A green scroll of fabric emblazoned with designs that shimmered a lighter green hung to below his knees from his armored hips, the scale armor resting over it, and also down the sides of the robes, and a long and heavy-looking dark cape hung to the floor from his shoulders and trailed out behind him for about two feet. The cape attached to the armor on his shoulders and extended up over his head in a dark cowl that cleanly covered the sides of his face, which was shrouded behind a silver mask that vaguely resembled an abstracted skull. There were no eye holes in the mask, only rounded protuberances where the eyes ought to be with a carved slit that logically no one would be capable of seeing out of. The mask and cowl were held in place by a crown-like golden circlet, and altogether he seemed strange and not completely human, and the hands that were visible under long black sleeves and the golden scale gauntlets were a strange shade of gray, the skin taught over every crease of bone. He gripped a long bronze staff which had a strange bluish-green orb on one end that seemed to pulse with power and glowed a faint smoky white, and the air around him seemed charged with magic.

Elsa saw Anna's mouth fall open, but Vulius did not relax his defensive posture and Kai only released her arm when she gestured to him that she was okay.

The Dragon Priest bowed low, bending down on one knee, his every motion more fluid and graceful than anything she had ever seen. He seemed like a wild animal, and she felt like she was in a cage with him; he seemed to dwarf everyone else with his mere presence.

"Greetings, Queen Elsa."

His voice was as dark as sin, beautiful and rough and seductive but also terrifying in its guttural power. It wasn't a human voice. It was the voice of a dragon.

Elsa swallowed and stood, gently pushing Vulius's waiting arm down. The commander stepped aside, and Elsa curtsied in the smallest of dips, respectful but in no way obsequious. "Lord Morokei. It is an honor to meet you. Thank you for coming all this way to Arendelle."

"The pleasure is mine, beautiful Queen," Morokei replied, standing back up with fluid grace. "I do hope I have not _alarmed_ your councilors."

Elsa heard Anna make some sound, but she was too focused on Morokei, on the terror and intrigue simultaneously flooding her system. "No, no, it's quite fine. We simply were not expecting you to arrive...thusly." Her voice sounded flat and small compared to the harsh echo of his.

"We thank you for your presence here, Lord Morokei," Kai said, stepping forward and also bowing. The other councilors did the same, and Vulius managed a stiff bob. Anna curtsied, but her eyes never left Morokei's masked face, and there was something in her expression that seemed defensive. "You must forgive us for our surprise."

He nodded briefly, and Elsa stepped down from the dais, ignoring Vulius's sound of protest, and came to stand before Morokei. There was an unbelievable chill radiating off him, and the air around him was stiffing and charged with magic; Elsa felt her hair stand on end. She was used to cold, she could feel it but it did not harm her and therefore she enjoyed it, but this was a very different kind of cold. She herself had some degree of body heat, and was only mildly chilly to the touch. Morokei, however, was surrounded by a frigid circle of air that sent waves of freezing cold radiating out from him like tiny, invisible blizzards. It was a cold she had never felt in her life, not even standing on top of a frozen mountain in the middle of the night in an ice castle, wearing a light and rather skimpy dress made entirely of frost. For some reason, she blushed.

Morokei surprised her by taking her hand and bowing again, 'kissing' the lips of his mask to the back of her hand. His skin was like pure ice when she touched it, and a taught hardness that skin was not supposed to have. Heat rose to her cheeks without warning at the gesture and the contact.

"You are far more beautiful in person, lovely queen," he said with something of a smile coloring his voice, and Elsa turned pink right then and there.

"You know my parents?" Was the first thing to (intelligently) escape her mouth. "Knew my parents. Knew. They died." _Oh my God, I sound like Anna_.

He seemed to smile; she could feel it, even through the mask. "Through a brief correspondence."

"You will have to tell me about that," she managed.

Anna had approached them and was standing rather protectively at Elsa's side, looking more like she was ready to charge Morokei than greet him, and her presence helped clear the queen's head. "Lord Morokei, this is my sister, Princess Anna."

Anna curtsied stiffly; Morokei bowed just as graciously to her as he had to Elsa, either missing her hostility or choosing to ignore it. As subtly as possible, Elsa found Anna's toe and gently stepped on it. To her credit, Anna did not squawk like she usually did, merely stood up straighter and glared a little harder at the Dragon Priest before saying—in a far more welcoming voice than her expression deemed possible—"It's a pleasure to meet you, your excellency."

The councilors had now also approached, Vulius coming to stand at Elsa's other shoulder with his hand still on the hilt of his sword, though his posture was deceptively easy. Everyone was treating Morokei like the enemy and it was starting to annoy Elsa.

"I am the Queen's majordomo, and this is her esteemed Commander of the Armies, Commander Vulius. These are her council members. We all welcome you to Arendelle, and hope you have a pleasant stay." Even Kai's words sounded rehearsed and rather clipped, and as the majordomo, Kai was a fluid conversationalist even to the likes of the Duke of Weselton and Prince Hans.

Was it just her, or had the distance between her and Morokei increased the minute the others had approached? She hadn't seen him back away, but he seemed to have, at some point. Elsa broke the tense silence by gesturing to the doors. "Shall we find somewhere else to discuss matters of state? You've come a long way, surely you must want to get right to business."

"That would be pleasant," Morokei replied. He had an accent, strange and lilting and impossible for Elsa to place—perhaps it was simply a Skyrim accent. She held out her hand, and Morokei offered her his arm, which she took as they proceeded to the study. Anna fell into step behind her and took Kristoff's arm, and the rest of the councilors followed them, Vulius and Kai walking on either side of Anna. Kristoff had to keep looking down to avoid stepping on Morokei's cape, and Anna likewise had to avoid Elsa's. The majordomo opened the study doors for the queen and her guest and the entered the room.

"Kai, please get the lights," Elsa ordered, but stopped when Morokei said, "No need." He held up his hand, and all the candles in the room suddenly lit themselves, and the curtains opened to let dusty light in through the windows onto the tables. Elsa blinked in the sudden brightness, stunned by what she had just witnessed. _Magic_, whispered in her mind.

Kai looked just as startled, Vulius looked annoyed, and the rest of the councilors and Anna seemed to be unsure of what to think. Kai pulled out a seat for Elsa, who sat down at the head of the tables, and her councilors tentatively took their own seats, leaving a spot for Anna beside Elsa, and Kristoff across from her. Morokei was left a seat at the opposite end of the tables, which he took without complaint and sat with his hands folded on the wood before him.

"Lord Morokei," Elsa began.

"Please, call me Morokei."

"...Morokei." She had never had anyone ask her to call them by their first name—last name? Only name? What exactly was his full name anyway? "Would it be all right if I asked you to take off the mask?"

There were some murmurings among the councilors that she asked so politely. She was the queen, and this was her country; he had no grounds to refuse, but she asked as if he had every right to. It betrayed her discomfort with her role a little too much for this outsider to witness. This dangerous, powerful outsider.

Morokei, however, said nothing, merely reached up with one hand and gripped the mask, long fingers splayed over the face of it, and pulled it off.

Elsa's mouth fell open.

The voice was frightening, and the mask was inhuman and fearsome, but the man sitting across the table from her was...

...beautiful.

His skin was as pale as alabaster, but tinted faintly gray, and smooth and unlined on a powerful, chiseled face, as perfect and angular as if it had been cut from a block of ice, or marble. Every feature was proud and refined, sharp and elegant and dangerous, and his the slight hook to his long nose and the strange arch of his dark eyebrows only served to make him that much more exotic. His lips were narrow and a dark blackish-maroon, as if they had been stained, and his face was clean-shaven, a smoothness most men could not achieve with a mere razor. When he had removed the mask, the cowl had fallen back, and Elsa now stared at a shock of scarlet hair. A deeper, richer orange and auburn she had never seen. His hair fell in luxurious waves down to his shoulderblades, swept back from his forehead in a wild but controlled mane of vibrant, deep vermillion. He was younger than she had expected, and yet strangely ageless, but his eyes were the most unnerving feature of his face. They were beautiful, almond-shaped, slanted eyes, turned up every so slightly at the outside corners to give him an exotic look, but instead of whites, they were pitch-black, and the irises were a brilliant pale gold. The skin around them was darker than the rest, brownish-gray, and his strange eyes were deep-set in his head. No human eyes had ever looked like that. These were the eyes of an animal, a dragon, something dark and dangerous, alluring and mysterious.

She heard Anna make a sound of surprise, and many of the council members gasped as well. Morokei smiled at Elsa, half smirk and half genuine grin, and while he moved so little of his face in that small grin, it changed his entire expression to one of perplexing beauty. She choked on her own saliva for a brief second before regaining her composure and meeting his strange eyes with a smile of her own.

"Thank you," she offered, proud that her voice was not a squeak, and removed her gloves. "Now. Shall we discuss an alliance?"

"We shall," Morokei replied, and it was a very strange sensation to hear that inhuman voice and see the dark lips move. Elsa smiled again.

"Skyrim has forced the Dominion from its borders, and has successfully kept them out ever since," he began, leaving Elsa to watch his lips and hands move even as she tried to pay close attention to his words. "We can offer you that same protection—the protection of the Dragon Priests—as an alternative to having to offer up your throne," he gestured to Elsa, "And your sister."

Anna started. "Wait, what?"

Before Elsa could shoot her a '_I'll explain later'_ look, Councilor Andersen said, "Both Weselton and the Southern Isles have offered to ally with us against the Dominion in exhange for your hand in marriage, Princess Anna."

Anna made a face that was so comically disgusted even Morokei laughed. "Ex-CUSE me? No way, no chance, no how." She paused. "Why not Elsa? She's the Queen. Not that I'm trying to force you to marry some old scumbag, Elsa. Because I'm not. Wait, am I?"

Elsa shook her head. "They want my abdication and your hand."

"NO, NO, NO," Anna exploded, and Kristoff had to reach across the table and drag her back down. "Heck no! You're the queen! They can't kick you out."

"You flatter me, Anna," Elsa said quietly. "But for a very long while there, I was afraid I had no choice."

"But you do," Morokei interrupted. "The Dominion fears Skyrim. An alliance with us will most certainly shift this power struggle in your favor, and it may not even come to all-out war."

"But what is it the 'Dragon Priests' want in return for our allegiance?" Vulius asked suspiciously.

Morokei fixed him with a cold glare. "The Dragon Priests want nothing. I come alone, acting independently. However, we function as a cohesive unit regardless of our personal interests. If I ally myself with Skyrim, they are bound by ancient ritual to support me."

"So we have no guarantee Skyrim will aid us," Vulius said. "You're an independent party that doesn't represent the collective interests of the the nation. Why should we make a deal with you at all?"

"I _said_ the other priests will support me, and Arendelle through me, should we make this alliance. Did I not make myself clear?" Morokei snapped, effectively silencing whatever Vulius was about to continue saying. "I need not explain the inner workings of Skyrim to you, _Commander_, so do not _concern_ yourself with them. I am the only one you need to make an agreement with." His eyes fixed on Elsa now, and his expression softened marginally. "If you choose to forge an alliance with me, you ally with Skyrim. I hold it in the palm of my hand."

"So what is it _you_ want, then?" Anna piped up, surprising the men. It was a good question, one Elsa had been too afraid to phrase herself. Anna calmly stared back at Morokei, and did not even look away when he fixed her with his hard, dangerous gaze, as Vulius had. Elsa felt her chest swell with pride at her sister's mettle. It could get her into a pickle and a half, but Anna had more fire than most of these men put together. "You aren't offering this alliance without the support of your country from just the goodness of your heart, if you don't mind my saying so."

Morokei actually smiled, tapping long nails together as he steepled his hands before his chest. "Normally, I would indeed expect something in return. And no doubt my brothers will want to demand something of Arendelle. But I see merely the offer for a strategic alliance between two countries which will likely serve beneficial in the future. The Dominion thrust Skyrim into a bloody war and violently took over, and that prompted a civil war within her. When the Dragons rose again, we were able to unite Skyrim's rather divided people and force the wretched elves out of our home, and the dragons and Dragon Priests have kept them out ever since. It has been roughly a hundred years since we routed them from our lands, and we intend to keep them out. Arendelle faces the threat on annihilation that Skyrim faced so many years ago. The elves detest magic wielders, like myself, like Elsa, and they detest my religion just as much as they frown on yours. Why would I not seek an alliance with a sister country so clearly facing the same situation mine was in not even a century ago?"

"How very altruistic of you," Vulius muttered.

"Vulius, enough," Elsa snapped.

Morokei swiveled his head to glare at Vulius. "If you must know, there has never been a magic wielder quite like your esteemed Queen, especially not one capable at such a young age. I wish only to get to know you and your land and people, and perhaps learn from you, if you will let me. If not, my offer still stands; I can promise you the full support of the Dragon Priests and all our forces against the Dominion and all its allies." His eyes narrowed as Vulius opened his mouth to speak. "_And I do not break my promises_."

"May I...think about it?" Elsa said after a moment. Morokei seemed surprised, but she couldn't exactly tell by what. "I fear that an alliance with Skyrim will appear to the Dominion as an act of war, and a war is exactly what I'm trying to avoid. If possible, I wish Arendelle to remain neutral."

"But of course," Morokei replied. "I did not come here to demand an answer immediately."

"Will you stay, though?" She found herself asking. "At least for a time? You said you wanted to get to know me, and my people." She blushed. "And with the constant pressure from the Dominion and the Southern Isles, it would be comforting to know I have someone here who might help protect my people, if it came down to it."

"Absolutely," Morokei said. "I am at your command, my Queen."

Elsa paused, then smiled at him. "Please," she said. "Call me Elsa."


End file.
